


There's No Going Back

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Mc76 [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Forgiveness, Gen, Guilt, Lies, Memories, Minor Injuries, Past, Secret Identity, Secrets, Survivor Guilt, Then and Now, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Sent to recruit Soldier 76 to Overwatch, McCree is stunned to discover an old friend hidden beneath the mask and disappointed to realise that he's not ready to help bring Overwatch back.





	There's No Going Back

   Jack’s head was pounding when he drifted back towards consciousness, immediately aware of the restraints holding him in place and he’s forced to bite down on his lip, hard enough to taste copper as even that tiny movement sends pain lancing through his side. Whoever had caught him had clearly done their best to catch him with as little damage as possible, but age and the lingering damage from Zurich meant that even the lightest injuries could hurt like hell nowadays. Breathing steadily to ride out the wave of pain he wracked his brain, trying to remember what had happened, unable to recall anything beyond the flare of a flash bang which had sent his visor into meltdown and left him stunned and temporarily unable to aim. Clearly that had been all the time his captor had needed because he couldn’t recall anything after that. Scowling, relieved to feel that his visor was still in place. Although the relief dimmed when he realised that it’s only the visor itself that’s still there, the mask part apparently having been torn away and something unpleasant twists in his stomach as he realised that his face was exposed.

   Before he can give into the panic rising in his chest, he realised that he wasn’t alone. His hearing sharpened after nearly a year without sight before he’d managed to get hold of the visor, and its enough to let him pick up on the sound of soft breathing from the far side of the room and he tensed, cursing as he realised that he’d probably just given away the fact that he was conscious. However, whoever it was that was watching him didn’t get a chance to call him on it, as instead the silence was broken by the familiar ping of a communicator. Jack stilled at the jingle of metal as he heard his captor rising to their feet and something tugged at his memory, making him scowl as he listened intently as the other person moved away. _Who are you?_

“I haven’t found him yet Winston.” The familiar name, one that he hadn’t heard in a long time sent a pang of longing and fear through him. _Winston._ However, the longing is easily quashed because he knows that he can’t go back.

He won’t.

     However, it’s the voice of his voice that really catches his attention, pushing through the surge of emotions clouding his thoughts. The soft drawl tugging on a part of his heart that he’d thought to be dead long ago. He can’t hear the other half of the conversation, but it can’t be good because the drawl is harsher this time, sharper and the earlier twisting sensation returned with a vengeance. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll find him…but you know, just because he’s targeting the same groups as us, it doesn’t mean that he’ll want to join us.” Jack can’t quite hold back a flinch at the words, breath catching at the implication, mind darting to his missing mask as realisation slammed into him. _He knows_ … He knows who Jack is, and just the thought of it is enough to send Jack’s mind into a tailspin, and he missed the last couple of exchanges in the conversation as well as the sound of the communicator being turned off.

   It’s only when he heard the jangling of metal once more, this time moving towards him that he managed to focus on the present again, but the panic was still there churning just beneath the surface. He was practically rigid in his seat when he hears the other man come to a halt in front of him and knowing that there’s no way to hide from this or from him, Jack slowly he coaxed his eyes open. The world around him was bathed in the familiar red glow of his visor, and the familiarity of the sight is enough to keep him together for now. Or maybe not, his gaze shifting to his captor, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment as his eyes trailed across familiar features. He’s older, worn by everything that had happened with Overwatch and since then, fresh scars marring a face that Jack had never thought that he’d see again and when his voice finally worked, it came out as a weak whisper that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity.

“Jesse…”

“It is you.” McCree sounded just as shaken as he felt, and the fingers that reach for the bindings holding him in place trembled. Jack held himself still, for the first time in years not knowing what to do or what to say as his stomach churned unpleasantly. He’d been running from his past, and from the people who’d known him for so long. that now he’d been brought to a halt he had no idea what to do, and so he remained silent as the bindings fell away and McCree rose slowly to his feet and moved back a short distance. “I thought I was seeing things when I removed your mask, but…it’s good to see you, Jack.” Jack had to look away at the sheer sincerity of the words, his eyes burning in a way they hadn’t for years, and he tried to pretend that he didn’t notice how Jesse stiffened at his reaction.

“You were looking for me?” It wasn’t really a question. Even if he hadn’t heard the conversation a moment before, it was too much of a coincidence that the younger man had shown up at the base he had been planning on hitting for the past few weeks. _He’d become predictable_ , the thought left an unpleasant taste in his mouth as another deeper and angrier voice shouted the same words at him, echoing through his memory. He let his hands fall into his lap, clenching them together as he tried to push the memories away before he lifted his head to focus on McCree again.

“I was,” McCree admitted easily, and for a moment Jack was hit with the urge to scold him for answering so easily. Clearly Reyes teachings and his days in Blackwatch hadn’t stuck with him, either that or he felt that comfortable around Jack, which was a thought that had him shifting uneasily because he didn’t deserve that kind of trust. _Trust,_ he had been trusted in the past and look where that had got them. He can’t face that level of trust, not again. “Well, I was looking for Solider 76.” Somehow, it was easier to hear his new name, and he stilled, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he broached the subject that had been bothering him since the call had ended.

“So why did you lie to him?”

    A sigh greeted his words, McCree shrugging before he took a few steps back and sank into another chair that looked as though it had been set up in preparation for an interrogation rather than whatever this was turning into. The irony of didn’t escape Jack as he recalled how their positions had been reversed years before, lips quirking faintly when he remembered the doubts he’d had about whether the rough youth in front of him could ever change his ways. It was another thing that he’d been wrong about. This McCree’s eyes were piercing as he studied him for a moment, and the small flicker of humour disappeared as quickly as it appeared, because too much had changed. Still, there was a pang of familiarity when McCree removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair before he finally replied.

“I didn’t know how to tell him the truth,” McCree admitted, and there was a flicker of anger in his expression as he added tersely. “Hell, I’m not even sure what the truth is anymore.” _You and me both kid,_ Jack wanted to say, finding himself unable to hold the piercing gaze for long, instead staring at the ground as the last few years played through his mind. He’d spent nearly every day from the moment he’d recovered enough to move hunting for the truth about what had happened at Zurich, he’d managed to find crumbs…hints…but never enough to give anyone the answers they needed. A failure that still burns even on the best of days, let alone now under the searching gaze that he can feel focused on him. “You died Jack.”

“I did.” _I should have,_ it was a thought that was always there, inescapable even when he helped people or when he found another piece to the truth he’s searching for. He should have died back then. Many people would call it a miracle that he had survived, that he had been pulled from the remains of an explosion that had killed so many people, scarred…blind…but alive. He wasn’t one of them. “Jack Morrison in Zurich.” _That was how it had to be, how it should be…_

“Jack…”

“Don’t…” Jack cut him off, hating himself for doing it, but the hope in McCree’s voice was too much for him to bear. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, especially late at night when the loneliness and isolation would eat away at him. He knew that there were still some people out there who would welcome him, who might even be willing to forgive him, but he couldn’t allow himself to give into that weakness. He didn’t deserve to, at least not before he’s found the answers he’s searching for. His resolve didn’t stop his voice from wavering as he continued. “Jack Morrison belongs to the past, and so does Overwatch.” That drew a flinch from McCree, and he sighed, his suspicions confirmed by that simple action and yet it didn’t stop him from asking. “That’s why you were hunting for me, wasn’t it? To try and bring me into the fold?” He’d heard about the recall, even witnessed the new Overwatch in action more than once. The familiar faces had left a dull ache in his heart, whilst the new ones had given him hope that maybe this new group could succeed where he’d failed.

“It can be different this time,” McCree was on his feet again, voice choked with emotions that were written across his face as he began to pace. “I don’t pretend to know what happened back then, and to be honest I don’t really care. The past is the past, you taught me that the day you accepted me into Overwatch and told me I could become anything I wanted if I worked for it. Why can’t it be the same for you?” _Because your sins were nothing compared to mine_ , Jack thought, hands clenched in his lap as he fought against the small part of him that wanted to give in, to go back, to be free of this solitude that has been slowly eating away at him. “Jack, Overwatch still needs you.”

“No, it doesn’t.” There was no uncertainty in his answer. That was the one thing he knew for sure, the one truth that couldn’t be denied. He might still need Overwatch, needing the companionship, the chance to go back to how things had been before he’d become Strike Commander and screwed everything up. To go back to a time when before the organisation had become a completely different beast that it was originally supposed to have been but Overwatch itself didn’t need him. He was just a solider, an old, jaded one at that and his voice was soft but firm as he continued. “Overwatch needs to be free of the past, free of those of us that brought it to its knees if it’s going to survive. You’ve got a good group now, one that can maybe make Overwatch into what it was supposed to be. That can possibly make the world what we would all like it to be, and you don’t need me for that.”

“But…”

“It’s for the best McCree.” He wished that it didn’t hurt so much to see the disappointment in McCree’s expression in response to his words and the sheer finality in his tone, but he pushed it down and instead cautiously rose to his feet. He still hurt from whatever the younger man had done to take him down in the first place, already stiff limbs protesting from remaining seated for too long, but he didn’t let it show as he straightened and looked at McCree. Waiting. Watching. He knew that if it comes down to it that McCree could probably take him, especially as there was no sign of his pulse rifle and the lingering effects of his injuries would slow him down. And there was a stubborn set to McCree’s mouth that made him think that he might just try it. That he might try and drag him back despite everything he’d just said, and he’s surprised when the gunslinger’s shoulders slumped in defeat instead.

“I don’t agree,” McCree growled even as he turned away to rummage in a pack that Jack hadn’t even noticed, pulling out the other part of his mask and his rifle. “Hell, part of me is still tempted to haul your ass back so that the others can help me make you see reason, but…” He sighed and turned back to Jack, holding out the items in offering and Jack hesitated for a moment before moving closer so that he could reach for them. The familiar weight of his weapon in his hands grounded him before he set it aside so that he could slip the mask back into place. “This is what you want isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s an apology for much more than refusing to join the new Overwatch, and they both knew it, and the silence that followed was tense and awkward for a moment before McCree moved again. This time he was rooting in his pocket, and after a moment he pulled out his communicator, deftly typing something into it before holding it out towards Jack. He stared at it for a moment, easily recognising Winston’s work and feeling a pang at the sight of the familiar insignia on the side, before he looked up, not making any attempt to take it. “What?”

“Take it,” McCree growled as he thrust the communicator towards him with more force than before, clearly offended by the suspicion. “At least that way you have a way of contacting me if something happens. I’ve set it to a private channel, so no one else will know.” Jack wanted to point out that nothing is truly private, and that if Winston or Athena got it into their heads that McCree was hiding something they would easily be able to find it. Instead, he reached out, fingers cautiously curling around the device as he took it. It was a heavy weight in his palm, a burden that he didn’t want but McCree’s expression had eased a little at his acceptance, and with his mask hiding his expression he settled for dropping the device into his jacket pocket.

“Thanks.” He lingered for a moment, feeling as though he should say something more, but worried that it would only make things worse. In the end, he retrieved his gun and turned away without a word, heading for the door. However, his steps faltered as he reached it, unable to leave things like this, not when he recalled the pain of not being able to say farewell to everyone the last time he’d left, and he tilted his head to find that McCree was still watching him. “Take care of yourself, McCree.” His stomach twisted unpleasantly again, and he fumbled with the door handle before shoving it open and trying not to notice just how close he was to breaking into a run as he slipped through the gap, but not quickly enough to miss McCree’s final words.

“I’ll be seeing you, Jack.


End file.
